


Cord

by vtn



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-16
Updated: 2006-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and Wilson have a conversation.  Or don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cord

The sky is still red and soft with the vestiges of a sunrise that Wilson is sure would have been magnificent if he had been there to see it. The color puts him in mind of a rhyme he remembers vaguely—"red sky at morning, sailors take warning", it went. He thanks God he's a doctor, not a sailor, although he's not sure he believes in God sometimes. On the other hand, he's also not sure he's really thankful.

"Take warning of what?" he thinks out loud.

" _Storms_ , you idiot." House yanks on the cord and the blinds spin halfway closed, striping House's face a rather ominous mix (Wilson thinks) of black and orange. "And I'd explain it, but—”

"It's not your specialty," Wilson says, yanking the blinds back open. "I know."

"Aw, do we have to skip all the funny parts of this conversation? Sometimes I wonder why conversations with you are even worth having if you're going to fast forward through all the good parts." House fakes a pout and leans back, folding his hands behind his head. "Better cut to the chase, then."

"There's nothing. I—there's nothing." Wilson leaves the statement hanging, watches the threads of its rope start to fray and unwind. Pulls the rope back up before it snaps, or House can. "Nothing more than the usual anyway, because I know you'll keep prodding me 'till you pull something out otherwise." House pulls the cord again, a dark band falling over one eye.

"Either way. I don't care. Do you want—?”

"That's _crap_ , House, and we both know it."

"I was in the middle of a joke, in case you didn't notice." He leans back again and the dark band curves and slips over his nose and neck to rest at his shoulders as another one passes between his eyes. He puts his hand to his pocket.

"Your pager won't save you this time," Wilson says lamely. "You'll just have to _deal_ with me, and won't that be awful?"

"Nope," says House, mock-cheerfully.

"Nope, it won't be awful, or nope, you—”

"Won't have to _deal_ with you. I'll just shut you up instead." He pulls the cord all the way, bathing them both in shadow dark enough that Wilson can't even see House kissing him.


End file.
